


Dance to the Silence

by LostCybertronian



Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, this is part of nanowrimo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 17:36:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12611824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostCybertronian/pseuds/LostCybertronian
Summary: William checks up on Damien, who often doesn't have time to eat or sleep. He finds his friend dancing to an old record of jazz music.Years later, Wilford Warfstache finds the record.





	Dance to the Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a post on Tumblr. (This is also posted on my Tumblr btw).  
> I enjoyed writing this.

The City Hall was dark as William climbed the white marble steps, but as he glanced up he could see that one window on the second floor was still lit a pale yellow.  
_That’s Damien,_ he thought to himself with a soft chuckle, _the rapscallion must’ve lost track of time._  
It happened often: Damien, being the Mayor, would often stay at the office late, running the city, completely disregarding food and sleep, disappearing for days at a time sometimes.  
So William, since being discharged from the Armed Forces, took it upon himself to bring his dearest friend food. That’s what he was doing now, at . . 1:55 AM, according to the silver pocket watch that Damien had given him as a gift.  
The doors to the Hall were unlocked, allowing William to slip in easily. And as he padded down the corridors towards the stairs that led to Damien’s office, he was surprised to find that he could hear faint jazz music.  
_Is Damien playing music?_ It got louder the closer he got to Damien’s office, and as William reached it he eased open the door, poking his head in eagerly.  
The grin fell from his face, however, when he saw his friend _dancing._  
Damien had always been graceful, _elegant_ even, in the way he moved. But the way he danced left William breathless.  
“Bully,” he murmured, unable to tear his eyes away.  
It was at that moment Damien turned, spotting William, and gave an unmanly shriek, leaping nearly three feet in the air. “William!”  
“Hello, old chap!” William flung open the door, “I say, I didn’t know you liked jazz!”  
“It, ah . . . eases my mind.” Damien’s eyes widened and he adjusted his suit. “What are you doing here?”  
William, grinned and patted the satchel he was carrying, “I brought you some food. You must be famished!”  
“What time is it?” Damien’s brows furrowed together as he moved toward the old record player sitting in one corner of his office. “It cannot be that late, surely . . .”  
“It’s two in the morning,” William informed him, removing his satchel and setting it on Damien’s desk.  
“Oh, dear. I must have lost track of time-” Damien yelped as William crept up behind him and snagged his hand just as he was about to stop the record player. “William!”  
“Dance with me.” William dragged the man into a loose waltz, leading them around the messy piles of papers strewn about the floor, one hand coming to settle lightly on Damien’s waist, the other clasping his hand gently. His heart beat wildly against his rib cage and he was immensely grateful that the bright red blush flushing his cheeks was hidden by his fluffy black mustache.  
For a moment Damien looked like he would protest, but the glance William sent him over the rims of his glasses obviously made him think better of it.  
Instead, he sighed and leaned closer, free hand settling on William’s shoulder. “I admit, this is nice.”  
“Mm. Not often you take a well-deserved break.” By now they were swaying to the music more than actual dancing, but William didn’t mind. His friend was clearly exhausted, head nodding as he tried to keep himself awake.  
Damien smiled and listed even closer until their chests were pressed together, lips mere centimeters from William’s.  
And then he kissed him.  
It was quick, a mere moment, but it felt like a million.  
William didn’t mind. Damien’s lips were soft and warm and gentle. And when his friend pulled away, William dove right back in, bringing his hands up to cup Damien’s face as he pressed their lips together.  
Damien was the one who broke away, finally, breathless and laughing. “You scoundrel!”  
“I must say, I didn’t expect you to make the first move.” William leaned in, kissing him again.  
“Stop!” Damien pushed him away, adjusting his suit. He acted serious, but the smile on his face said otherwise. “I really should be getting back to work.”  
“It's two in the morning, Dame!” William hooked his arm through Damien’s, deftly steering him away from his desk and the chaos that awaited him there. “We’re going home.”  
“At least let me-” Damien wrestled away from him, chuckling, “at least let me retrieve my cane and shut off the record player, you scamp.”  
William lifted an eyebrow, but it was sadly lost on Damien due to his hat and his thick, black hair. He waited semi-patiently as his friend gathered up his cane, scooped up an armful of papers, and staggered over to the record player.  
“Do you want your satchel?” He asked as he headed back over.  
“You’ll forget to eat again tomorrow,” William said, hooking his arm through Damien’s once again. “Besides, Cook’s food is better when it’s hot.”  
Damien’s cheeks flushed red as he grinned, and together they left, out into the night.

\---  
_Many, Many Years Later_

Dark was working in his office when soft jazz music reached his ears. It was achingly familiar, and brought memories of a long ago time, a happier time, bubbling to the surface.  
He closed his eyes for a moment as his shell cracked, ringing rising to deafening pitch. For a moment the room shook, and then all was still. The dark entity had disappeared, leaving nothing but silence in his wake.

Wilford hummed along to the music contentedly, sitting on the floor, surrounded by cardboard boxes in various states of disarray. The record player he’d found while going through some of the old junk lying around was ancient, but it still worked perfectly. Out of the stack of dusty records he’d chosen one labelled “Damien’s favorite.”  
He’d faintly recognized the name, and it unsettled him that he couldn’t remember more than the image of a cane and of a warm, loving smile, so he’d plopped it onto the turntable. The resulting jazz music had been strangely comforting.  
“Wilford. What do you think you are doing?”  
Wilford twisted, a grin spreading across his face as he saw Dark picking his way around boxes and piles of stuff.  
The ego didn’t appear to be angry, but his shell crackled around him, seeping gray tendrils that accompanied him as he came to loom over Wilford.  
“I found a record player!” Wilford told him proudly. “And it still works!”  
Dark shifted his feet, red eyes shifting, left, right. If Wilford didn’t know any better he’d almost say Dark appeared to be uncomfortable. “Do you recognize the song?”  
“No. Should I?”  
Dark shook his head. “No. It just used to be one of my favorites, that’s all.”  
Wilford hopped to his feet. “I didn’t know you liked jazz.” He paused for a moment, thinking, then held out a hand. “Dance with me.”  
“What?” Dark looked like he’d been slapped, but after a fraction of a second regained his composure, any and all emotion wiped from his face, and Wilford almost thought he’d imagined it.  
Dark adjusted his suit. “I don’t dance, Wilford.”  
“C’mon,” the pink ego wheedled, “there’s no one here. No one’ll even know, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”  
Dark scowled, eyebrows furrowing together, but seemed to seriously consider Wilford’s request. Finally, he took Wilford’s hand. “Fine.”  
Wilford yanked him close, their chests pressed together, one hand coming to hold Dark’s waist, the other squeezing his hand tight as they swayed back and forth in tune with the music.  
Dark was stiff as a rod at first, but slowly he began to relax and his free hand came to rest lightly on Wilford’s shoulder.  
They danced without a word, the only sound being the music, filling up the room and saying the things that neither of them could.  
They danced to the silence, to what was and what wasn’t remembered, to what would never be again.  
They danced for what they had, and what they had was enough.


End file.
